


Mating Season

by lamardeuse



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, Rodney and the psychoanalysis of <em>Bambi</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mating Season

“Spring has sprung, the grass is riz, I wonder where the birdies is.”

John removed the wheat stalk currently lodged between his lips and looked over at Rodney. “Excuse me?”

Rodney smiled and shook his head. “Just something my mother used to say.”

John tried to imagine his mother saying something like that. Nope, couldn’t do it. The line of doggerel couldn’t be reconciled with the cool blond perfection he remembered from even his earliest childhood.

He used the mask of his aviator sunglasses to study Rodney while giving an illusion of no more than casual interest. Rodney’s forehead, the tip of his upturned nose and the rise of his cheekbones were rosy with sunburn – so much for his nuclear-radiation-proof sunblock – and his forearms were dusty and dirt-streaked. The three-day Athosian planting festival was becoming a tradition on Atlantis, a chance for all the lab-bound geeks to get out in the sun for a day, a chance for the military personnel to blow off some steam, and a chance for everyone to have a little vacation from the urban lifestyle.

Not that he didn’t love the city – he did – but even with all the away missions they did, there were times when it felt like the walls were closing in, when it was something near to heaven to kick back with a couple of beers and some good friends in the open air of the mainland.

And the Athosians made damned good beer. He tilted the earthenware bottle to his lips, draining the last of the strong, malted brew. As he placed it on the ground beside him, he noticed the motion of Rodney’s head as it turned away from him.

John leaned back on his elbows and reveled in the cool breeze coming up from the lake. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught Rodney looking, but then he reminded himself that Rodney had caught him a few times, too.

He wondered how many times would be enough.

They were up on the hill overlooking the village, sprawled under a huge hardwood tree. Rodney had grumbled at the climb, but once they were up there he shut up. The view was spectacular, but at the same time their own position was hidden by a slight rise. John usually ended up here when he came to visit Teyla’s people; even though they always welcomed him with open arms, occasionally he needed a little alone time.

After nearly two years, he knew he shouldn’t still be thinking about what might have happened if he hadn’t picked that damned necklace out of the dirt, but he couldn’t help it.

The faint sound of laughter wafted up from the lakeside; John sat up and spied Jinto and some of the other kids engaged in a lively water fight with Ronon and Teyla. The giant Satedan underwent this strange transformation when he was around kids, although maybe Teyla had something to do with his playful mood.

While John watched, Teyla made a fluid, graceful leap onto Ronon’s back, toppling him sideways into the water while the two of them laughed like fools.

“Hm,” Rodney said; John glanced at him and saw he was studying the same scene. “What do you suppose is up with those two?”

John pointed a finger.  "It is my expert opinion that they are twitterpated."

Rodney stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

“It’s spring, Rodney,” John elaborated. “Mating season.”

Rodney snorted.

John grinned at him. “It’s just like in _Bambi_, when all the animals pair off at the end of the picture.”

Rodney turned toward him, frowning. “Speaking of that, I always thought that whole bit was…creepy. I mean, Bambi’s mother has just been shot by hunters, and the next thing you know he’s fertilizing the first convenient doe he lays his eyes on?” He mimed picking up a phone. “Hello, Doctor Freud? Could you pay a visit to the Disney studios on your way back to Vienna?”

John was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “Jesus,” he gasped, “you really did kind of overthink your childhood, didn’t you?”

Rodney’s generous mouth thinned. “I didn’t just passively accept the entertainment that was handed to me, if that’s what you mean.”

John nodded solemnly. “Good for you.”

Rodney shot him his best _you infuriate me_ glare, then took a healthy swallow of his own beer. John watched the bob of his Adam’s apple and felt the familiar combination of crackling energy and arousal tangle inside him.

Suddenly he was fed up with this, fed up with ignoring that volatile cocktail of lust, affection and exasperation he’d tried and utterly failed to find anywhere else. If nothing else, it was a criminal waste of energy, and time.

He listened for a few more moments to the splashing and the echoing laughter from below, then made his decision.

Rodney wiped at his mouth with the back of his less dirty hand, then settled back on the soft grass and closed his eyes. John took a deep breath, moved closer to Rodney and reached out.

When his fingers glided over Rodney’s forehead, Rodney sucked in a startled breath and opened his eyes, eyes as blue and dangerous as Atlantis’ ocean.

“You got burned,” John murmured. His fingers lifted, touched down again on Rodney’s right cheekbone, while his thumb strayed to Rodney’s wide, parted mouth.

“F-forgot my sunblock,” Rodney stammered, as if John’s hand wasn’t caressing his face like a lover’s.

“Yeah, I figured.” John leaned closer, saw a faint smattering of freckles dotting Rodney’s nose. “A little sun won’t kill you, you know.”

“No, but this might.” Rodney sighed and tipped his head back as John’s thumb pressed boldly against his lips. “Colonel, you—”

“Say my name,” John husked, the words more a plea than an order. “You never say my name.”

“I—I—” Rodney’s breathing was fast and shallow, the air chilling John’s thumb.

John’s mouth hovered an inch above Rodney’s. “You gonna overthink this, too?”

“Don’t you think we’d—we’d better?” Rodney squeaked, fingers wrapping around John’s bicep, though whether he meant to keep him close or push him away John wasn’t sure.

“I’ve been doing too much thinking lately,” John drawled, stroking one fingertip slowly down Rodney’s right cheek. “Doc says I need to cut back.”

Rodney made a semi-coherent noise that sounded a little like _fuck it_ and then his hand was tangling in John’s hair and his wide mouth was pressing against John’s, the lopsided curve fitting against his own lips like a missing puzzle piece. John groaned and bracketed Rodney’s head with his hands, cradling his face as they kissed. Rodney’s kisses were everything and nothing like John hoped they’d be, flavored by strong beer and deeply banked desire and the limitless energy of new life.

Then, “John,” Rodney breathed against his mouth, and shit, John’d been right about that much; after two years of nothing but his rank that was enough to send him straight into the stratosphere. The next thing he knew he was lying half on top of Rodney, savoring the feel of the solid chest against his own and the even more solid thigh against his—

“Oh, God,” Rodney moaned, “just—tell me one thing. Am I Bambi or the doe?”

John reached down and cupped his palm over Rodney’s cock. Rodney made a noise that wasn’t exactly human and gripped John’s arms like they were the only solid thing in existence.

“How about neither?” John suggested, licking a broad stripe over Rodney’s Adam’s apple, loving the taste of salt and earth and sunwarmed, living flesh. “I think it’s important that our sex life not be tainted by Bambi’s mommy issues. What do you say?”

Rodney grinned and rolled his hips up against John’s firm hand. “I say, let the mating begin.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, I shamelessly stole that one-finger bit from a steaming hot manip by nicci_mac. Thanks to bibliokat as well for reminding me of "twitterpated". I've worked it into my final version.
> 
> And I think it says something deeply disturbing about my psyche that the first thing that comes to mind when Estrella puts "spring" and "porn" together is the cute, fluffy animals in Bambi getting their freak on. Uh, Dr. Freud?
> 
>  
> 
> First published January 2006.


End file.
